


Lock and Key

by extree



Series: Higher Education [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extree/pseuds/extree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle drops by Professor Gold’s office to bring him lunch. She’s not sure why she locks the door behind her, but it turns out to be a good thing that she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock and Key

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnessina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnessina/gifts).



> I lay the blame squarely at the feet of the recipient of this gift. She says "here, _thing_ " and I'm all "okay, _thing_!" and then I'm all "ahhh, crap, now I'm writing _thing_."
> 
> So here's a _thing_.

If Belle had had a picnic basket at her disposal, she would have used it just for esthetics’ sake, but sadly she had to settle for a plastic shopping bag in which to carry her boyfriend’s surprise lunch. It was just a BLT and some strawberries, because she actually had no idea what he liked to eat for lunch. Those few lazy days they’d spent together before embarking on their improvised world trip weren’t centered around food, exactly - they’d been too wrapped up in one another to notice a few skipped meals. They ate when they were hungry, and mostly they ended up just settling for takeaway or popcorn. Who didn’t like bacon, though? Bacon was a safe bet for an omnivore, right?

She knocked on the door to his office and felt herself slide back into the skin of that blushing student with the impossible crush, gathering her courage and going over whatever excuse to come see him she’d come up with this time so she could rattle it off without stammering. She missed it, in a sense. That excitement. That faint, addictive heartache, too.

“Come in,” came his low, monotone ‘Whatever it is, I’ll bet it’s in the fucking syllabus’ voice from behind the door. Belle giggled and pushed it open, peeking around the corner with her lip between her teeth in a futile attempt to subdue her grin. He was sitting at his desk and he didn’t look up from the paper he was glaring at. God, he was handsome.

“Why hello there, professor,” she mewled.

He looked up, and the scowl on his face fell away like dust blown from the cover of an old book to make place for a sweet little smile. She turned, closed the door, and without really thinking about it, turned the key in the lock.

“Belle!”

She walked up to him, dropped the bag right on top of whatever it was that was making him look so damn angry and leaned down to kiss him on the lips.  
“Brought you lunch.”  
“You’re a godsend,” he sighed, reaching into the bag to take out the wrapped sandwich and the little tupperware box of strawberries. “Kinsey asked me to take a look at this thing he’s trying to get published, as if I don’t have anything better to do. Haven’t had the time to get lunch.”  
“Look at you being all helpful and then grumbling about it,” she teased. “You could have said no.”  
“I can tell you never took any of his classes. The man won’t take no for an answer.”  
“Sure. Whatever you say.”

She sat down in the very chair she’d sat in so many times before, crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. From the moment she walked through that door, Belle had found herself in a certain mood; a vague nostalgic veil that tinted everything a warm color, the feel of old 8mm home video. Really, it was just the way the early autumn sun hit the red brick building next to the one that housed Gold’s office, bounced off it and shone through the blinds at the window to give everything a soft focus orange glow, but the thing was that she remembered that color. It was the color of sitting and talking and smiling until her cheeks hurt, the color of him and her as they made time stretch between them, turning quick five minute meetings into hour long conversations, taking this thing that they had but couldn’t acknowledge and spinning thread out of it, winding it around their fingers, spanning the distance between them until the glow went out like an exhausted candle and they realized they had to cut through their carefully woven tangle of threads until only the one between teacher and student remained.

And now that one was gone. They’d woven something else between them; soft golden ribbons from all those threads. She could twist those braided ribbons around her wrists and pull him close whenever she wanted to, now.

A rustling sound guided her back into the present moment, just in time to see her boyfriend’s confused look as he crumpled up the plastic shopping bag.

“There’s only one in here. Where’s yours?”  
“I already ate.”  
“Oh, Belle. At least have a strawberry, then,” he said, sliding the little plastic box towards her with the puppy dog look he’d never admit to having perfected. “I feel like such a twat, eating alone like this.”  
“Alright, alright, fine!”

She loved his pleased little smile as he watched her reach into the container for a strawberry and sank her teeth into it.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.  
“I’ve missed you too.”

A lot, actually. Every day. Their occasional dates were fine and everything; she just didn’t want him to drop her off at her father’s house anymore. But she wanted to spare her father the heart attack, too, so she’d been staying at home, slowly letting him get used to the thought of her new boyfriend. She hadn’t really had the courage to come right out and mention the ‘former professor’ thing, but she’d been dropping hints. You know, something along the lines of that the man she was seeing was more mature than her ex (seeing as how he was twice his age), that he had a secure job (i.e. tenure) and that they’d known each other for a few years and had been slowly getting to know each other (in his office and in empty classrooms) but that recently they realized there had been a mutual attraction all this time and that they decided to explore it (after she’d offered him a joint and demanded he kiss her on that roof) and see where it took them (his house, his bed, various European cities and a five-star hotel in her home town.)

“How’s your father taking it?”  
“He’s slowly getting used to the idea, I think.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Mhm. I’ve stopped leaving the room to take your calls and I think he can hear how happy you make me.”  
“I’m sorry, but that’s adorable, sweetheart,” he said, his grin wide as could be.  
“Why?”  
“It just is,” he shrugged. “And clever, too, in a sinister way. Weaponizing your affection for me like that.”  
“Oh shush. It’s working, and that’s what counts.”

He seemed to be enjoying that BLT a lot. Good. She made a note of it. Maybe this could be a new habit of theirs, for as long as she was still jobless. Maybe sneak into one of his lectures, too, and admire him in all his intimidating professor glory. Try and distract him from the back row, maybe? That could be fun.

“Do you think your father will want to meet me, soon?”  
“Nah, don’t worry about that. Not just yet. He, uh… He doesn’t know it’s you.”  
“Oh,” he said, looking just a little bit worried all of the sudden. “Did you tell him about the age difference?”  
“I told him that there was one,” she offered. He laughed, shook his head and leaned forward in his chair to tease, “Oh, Belle. Not quite so brave now, hm?”  
“I’ll tell him!” she parried, tilting her chin up. “It’s delicate, that’s all.”  
“I’m just teasing, sweetheart. You shouldn’t rush it. What about your friends?”

Curious, wasn’t he? About the way she spoke about him to others. Clearly, that’s what this was all about, but that was okay! She didn’t mind indulging him this time, because it meant putting him at ease.

Belle smiled, shrugged and said, “They think it’s _hilarious_. They weren’t really surprised. Impressed that I had the balls not to throw that joint off the roof when you caught me, maybe, but after the initial freakout they didn’t seem to think it was that strange at all.”  
“Really?”  
“Well, they did have to listen to me go on and on about you for years, you know. And maybe they saw your lingering looks,” she teased. He laughed, then made the last of his sandwich disappear.  
“And what about your friends?” she asked. Turnabout was fair play, after all, and she couldn’t deny that she was just a little bit curious about that, too. He huffed, tried not to laugh with his mouth full and shrugged. After he swallowed the last bite, he said, “I don’t have many friends. Just some very persistent acquaintances.”  
She quirked an eyebrow. His prideful look softened at the sight of her, and he sighed, “They say I’ve been less of a bastard since you and I started seeing each other.”  
“Do they?” she laughed, reaching out for another strawberry. “I’d love to meet them one day.”  
“They’d love to meet you, too. But I’m not ready to share you yet.”  
“Tss. Greedy.”

He really shouldn’t have given her that look, in hindsight. That’s what had set everything in motion. That crooked smirk and those half-lidded eyes that sent some strange golden-winged bird in her belly aflutter every single time, without fail.

“What can I say? I’m just not quite done having you all to myself.”  
“I’m still shiny and new, huh?” said Belle with a sweet little smile.  
“Very shiny.”

Maybe if he had stopped looking at her like that then, she wouldn’t have felt the need to touch him. But maybe he knew? Maybe that’s why instead of breaking eye contact and eating his strawberries like a good boy, he leaned back in his chair and let his smirk grow wider.

She stood up, circled the desk and stood behind him. He tilted his head up to give her a curious, rather suspicious look, so she leaned down and kissed his forehead, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, where she dug her fingers into the the warm flesh, squeezing to tell him it was okay to relax.

“That feels nice.”

She had no idea what she was doing, but she didn’t seem to be doing any harm, in any case. Little by little, she could feel the tension slip away as he sank a little further into his chair, his head lolling from one side to the other slowly.

“Did you lock the door?”  
“Hm, I don’t know. Did I?”  
“Belle,” he murmured low. It was probably meant to sound like a playful warning, but she could detect a slight undercurrent of… nerves.  
“Do you trust me?”  
“Of course.“  
“Then relax,” she said, kissing the top of his head. He smelled good. He always did.

“Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone walks in and sees your girlfriend rubbing your shoulders?”  
“Exactly.”  
“Oh, heaven forbid,” she sang. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it? For someone to see you relaxed and happy?”  
“Well I’m not relaxed now,” he laughed, “because you won’t tell me whether the bloody door’s locked.”  
“It really bothers you that much to have me here?”  
“No. No, sweetheart. I’m happy you’re here. It just doesn’t feel entirely safe, you know?”  
“I’m not a student anymore.”  
“I guess I’m not used to this yet. Not here. I can still picture you there in that chair across from me.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Smiling, blushing, fluttering your lashes like some kind of animated magical forest creature.”  
“Didn’t know you were looking like _that_.”  
“Difficult not to.”

She loosened the knot of his tie just a little bit, leaned over his shoulder and undid a button or two on his shirt. Excellent excuse to nuzzle into his hair, her nose nudging his ear, smiling at how his head tilted towards her touch instinctively.

Her hand was moving from his shoulder down to his chest before she even realized she was doing it.

His hand encircled her wrist, catching it and holding it in place halfway down his chest.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Excellent question. What on earth was she doing? Her heart was beating faster and up until just then he hadn’t even touched her. She’d said it before - and she’d meant it then - that touching him just made her… Fuck it, what use was it to keep couching it? Touching him with intent was enough to make her wet, oh, and now she’d made herself blush. Excellent. Honestly, she didn’t mean for this to happen. She was just going to bring him a sandwich, flirt her butt off and steal a few kisses. Honestly. That was all.

She swallowed, tried to sound calm and confident and murmured, “Don’t worry. I locked the door.” Did she hear his breath catch in his throat? He said her name in a soft, low growl, but he wasn’t stopping her as she reached down and began to unbuckle his belt with both hands. She could rest her chin on his shoulder that way.

“I’ll stop if you want me to.”  
“Don’t stop.”

His breath, his stubble against her cheek as she peeked over his shoulder to see what she was doing, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed, it all made her heart beat faster. With the belt unbuckled, she splayed her hands on his thighs, warm and hard and tense until she squeezed them and he seemed to relax.

“You never made me feel like a piece of meat, you know. When I sat in that chair and we talked.”  
“I never thought of you as that.”  
“I could tell. You know what, though?”  
“What?”  
“I wouldn’t have minded, I don’t think. If I’d caught you peeking down my shirt or staring at my thighs,” here she started rubbing her hands up and down his thighs slowly, circularly, “once or twice.”  
“No?”  
“Cause I didn’t have half the restraint you had. I checked you out all of the time.”  
“Liar.” His laughter was just a tiny bit strained, and it made her grin against his hair.

She put her hand right where she wanted it, feeling him hard through the stretched fabric of his trousers, and she giggled softly when that made him draw in a sharp, sudden breath.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t notice. And that you were really good at self-denial. Imagine if neither one of us had been holding back.”  
“I often do, now. I think about all those times I could have… done something.”  
“Yeah? What do you imagine?”  
“You. Up against that door with your legs around my waist, the buttons of your blouse on the floor and your tongue down my throat.”

Oh. Wow. That sounded good. Really, _really_ good. But that’s not what she had in mind.

This was one of few times that Belle didn’t mind being so short. It meant she didn’t have to bend over too far to drape herself over his back like this, to reach into his lap and unbutton his trousers like she was. With her face next to his, she could feel the vibrations as he talked in his low, bedroom voice. 

“When I came to your office to talk about a paper or something?” she asked, carefully pulling down his zipper.  
“Actually,” he said, pausing to press a soft kiss on her arm, “do you remember straggling so you’d end up alone with me after class?”  
“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “That’s right. I did do that.”  
“Now I keep thinking about grabbing your hand and dragging you into my office, not caring who saw.”  
“And pushing me up against that door.”  
“Pre- Oh God,” she slid her hand down into his trousers and felt him over the fabric of his boxers, “Precisely.”  
“And then what?”

He laughed in his deep, growly voice - a little more breathless than usual.

“Use your imagination.”  
“Aw, but I wanted to use yours,” she lilted.  
“I wish I could find a better word for you, but ‘minx’ will have to do,” he murmured. “You’re unbelievable.”

She slipped her hand into his boxers and she had her skin on his, now. He threw his head back, pushed it into her shoulder so she could nudge his lovely long hair out of the way with her nose and kiss his neck, drawing out an interesting little tiger purr. Encouraging didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I wasn’t like this before.”  
“No?”  
“This is all you.”

Her touch stole his words away and she wasn’t sure why but this was so impossibly erotic - to have her hand around him, to hear his breath become erratic because of her, to see him writhe and thrust up like that to have more of _her_ touch - more of whatever she was willing to give. She mouthed their favorite words against his neck, kissed that spot that drove him wild, tasted him on her tongue. His hands had been clutching at the edge of his desk, but as his breaths became more shallow and the movement of his hips sped up, one of his hands found hers splayed over his stomach and grabbed it tight, and the other found her wrist and helped her set the pace that finally had him coming in her hand with a stifled groan that sent a sudden rush of heat straight down between her legs.

She didn’t really want to, but she snatched one of her hands back so she could grab a tissue from his desk and make sure he wouldn’t have to rush home for a change of clothes. … And another couple of tissues for her own hand.

He still had his head thrown back and his eyes shut, and after tucking him away and zipping him up again, Belle took a moment to move around his chair, lean back against the desk and admire the havoc she’d wreaked on this gorgeous man. His hair was a mess and his face just a little bit red, and right before he opened his eyes, a smile began to pull at his lips.

“Was that good?” she asked, even though really, she knew the answer to that. She bit her lip and raised a single eyebrow, and suddenly he was on his feet and in her space, smelling just a little bit more like himself than he did before.

“I’ve got a class in five minutes but those idiots can wait. Scoot back on the desk,” he muttered, sliding his hands from her knees up her thighs. Tempting though it was (and that determined edge to his voice thrilling) Belle shook her head and gently pushed him back, her hands against his chest.  
“It’s okay. Go turn those idiots into upstanding members of society.”  
“I don’t want to,” he growled, making her giggle again.  
“You can have at me tonight, handsome.”

His dark, predatory look faded and turned into something a little softer, a little more delicate, and he moved to sit right next to her on his desk, his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands folded in his lap.

“So… You’re staying over tonight?” he asked softly.  
“Yeah!” she chimed, beaming from ear to ear.

He looked so cute, then, with his pleased, boyish grin and his face still a little bit flushed.

“Excellent. Spaghetti sound good?”  
“Perfect. I’ll watch you cook. And after, I’ll start doing the dishes but not in exactly the way you want them done, so you’ll begrudgingly take over and I can sit back and do nothing, admiring the view.”  
“Of course. And then I’ll have dessert.”  
“What about me?” she said, pouting.

He smirked and quirked an eyebrow, and when she took a little too long to catch on, he laughed this deep, meaningful laugh that told her everything she’d missed. Oh. Jesus Christ, it was like he could summon the Atlantic Ocean between her legs. Her boyfriend Poseidon.

“Oh, I see,” she purred. “Alright. I’ll keep you to that promise. Smoke, after?”  
“I could do with a bit of that, sure.”  
“It’s a date, then,” she decided, sliding off the desk, carefully so as not to hike her skirt up. He reached out for her elbow and helped her up, and it made her want to fall into his arms and take him up on that offer after all - it was so unbearably tender a touch.

“Is it okay if I get there around seven?”  
“Sure. I’ll be home by then.”  
“I’ll see you then.”

“Ah. Before you go,” he called after her, just as she was about to unlock the door, “I didn’t know when I could see you again, so I wasn’t sure when I was going to give you this, but… I think maybe now’s the time. Perhaps. As good a time as any, I suppose.”  
“What is it?”

He was standing by his desk with a shy look about him. He shook his head as if to get rid of that shyness (it didn’t work), pulled open a drawer and fished out something shiny.

“I, uh, I was going to find a keychain, but then I figured you’ve, uh… You’ve probably already got one, so,” he stammered, walking closer, “it’s just this, I’m afraid.”

She took the key from him. It was cool in her hand but she was filled with a sudden, all-consuming warmth. Was this really…

“Key to the front door.”  
“You’re serious?”

He paled, his lips parted, his brow wrinkled and he cast his eyes to the floor, muttering, “Oh God, it’s too much too soon, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Belle. I’m a fucking idiot. You can give it back if you want. I won’t-”

She kissed him to make those silly doubts of his go away and to tell him without words that this was perfect; it was beautiful, it made her so incredibly happy she thought her heart was about to burst. She wanted to dig her fingers in his hair and pull his body even closer to hers, but then she would lose that last bit of self control and he’d be late for his class. He was all out of tissues, anyway.

“Perfect,” she murmured against his lips between kisses. “It’s perfect.” She couldn’t stop kissing him but he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re perfect.”  
“You’re insane,” Gold said. She could let that little bit of subtle self-deprecation slide. He couldn’t possibly ignore the fact that she’d just given him a hand job in his office, right? Let’s see him try and twist that into something that reflected poorly on him and cast doubts on her attraction to him.

“You realize I’ll be waiting for you when you get home now, right?” she asked once she’d managed to tear herself away from his warm embrace. She couldn’t contain her grin; it was stronger than her. The happiness too overpowering.  
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for that,” he replied, that shy grin of his lighting up his face.  
“Don’t think dinner’ll be waiting.”  
“I should hope not. You’re an awful cook.”  
“Hey!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and reaching up to catch his smug, smirking lips again. She kissed him once, twice, and murmured “I make up for that in other ways. Don’t I?” against his soft lips.

His answer was a little nip of his teeth on her bottom lip that made her squeal and jump back with a giggle.

“Alright, I get it, I need to leave.”  
“If you know what’s good for you.”

She rather loved those idly grumbled threats of his. She suspected he knew. With a wave and a grin, she turned the key, opened the door and walked out. Or at least, that’s what she was doing when she felt her arm being tugged back and her body following.

“Hey. Come here.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her in the doorway. A soft, lingering kiss on the lips. Right there, as people walked by, without even a hint of hesitation or a sideways glance, and his hands at her waist holding her in place.

“I love you,” he said.

She blinked in his warm, gentle gaze. She tried to find her voice but couldn’t - not quite yet - so she reached up and touched his cheek instead. He was being brave for her, and it made her heart ache in the best possible way.

“I love you too.”

The key was pressing into her palm and it would surely leave a temporary mark, but that was okay. She walked slowly and when she looked over her shoulder before turning the corner, she saw him leaning against the doorframe with a little smile, looking at her still. He didn’t even notice a student staring as he raised his hand in a subtle wave - more of a wriggling of fingers, really - that was unforgivably adorable.

To think that in just a minute, he would be grumbling and growling and scowling at a bunch of terrified freshmen, this ridiculous bundle of sunshine wrapped in a raincloud of hers.

As the key heat up in her hand and the ground under her feet turned strangely cloud-like, Belle decided that perhaps a nap was in order. On her boyfriend’s couch.


End file.
